


Kill Me Or Kiss Me, part two

by Nikki66, Xiactorvi



Series: Kill Me Or Kiss Me [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arguing, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, Fenders, Fluff, Frottage, Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kink Meme, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, kmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6356281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikki66/pseuds/Nikki66, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiactorvi/pseuds/Xiactorvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the first installment, Anders and Fenris found common ground and uncommon passion. </p><p>Now, can they find the way past their hostile history, to continue this... thing.... between them?<br/>Can the things that would seem to pull them apart, actually pull them together?</p><p>There be smut, ahead. Glorious smut!<br/>And, feels. Fluffy feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kill Me Or Kiss Me, part two

**Author's Note:**

> This installment is much longer than the first. Really, it owes to the fact that I find Fenris to be very deep water. One spoken sentence has a paragraph of thought behind it. And... They’re just smuttin’ it up all over the damn place. 
> 
> I play slightly loose with dialogue, due to the non-canon relationship.
> 
> And, major kudos to the OP of the first story’s prompt on LiveJournal Kinkmeme; who has also given me excellent prompts (at my request) for a second installment. Xiactorvi has given me such incredible prompts, and amazing feedback; I have shared authorship because I know I couldn't have written half so well without that input. You rock!
> 
> Those prompts for this installment:
> 
> I'd love to see them catch themselves starting to argue like they did before, only to reel themselves in and start sorting out misunderstandings (such as, early on in-game, when Fenris told Anders in a banter "I know some mages who deserve [Tranquility]" Anders took that to mean Fenris meant him? It always seemed like that's where the unhealthy rivalry between them started and I'd love to see that cleared up).  
> I'd love for Anders and Fenris to go over their past experiences with each other--not in extreme detail, as I've mentioned before I don't think either of them are comfortable with that--maybe not all at once, possibly over nights spent cozily cuddled up next to a fire with some wine, or after an argument that they both regret having, but after the first night, seeing each other's reactions and fears, they'd want to understand each other.  
> I asked for no explicit flashbacks or anything in the original prompt, but now that we're past the original (and ridiculously good, omg) sex scene between them, you're free to touch down on their past trauma in as much detail as you want so long as it's outside dialogue (though they should talk about it some, at least, if it comes up? Gah, I hope I'm being clear enough for you, I'm sorry ;A;).  
> My only nope buttons at this point would be Anders and Fenris doing that thing they do in a lot of fics (very good fics, but still it hurts to see) where they have a vicious argument and disappear from each others' lives for a few months, someone bad managing to get their hands on either of the boys long enough to make their lives any worse than they are already, or...Hawke stabbing Anders. IDK if you have plans for the fic that far, it's okay if you don't, but my poor little soul can't handle that, lol.  
> And as a final sidenote, if you want to touch down on this or if it comes up--some sort of communication between Justice and Fenris at some point? Anders being reassured that he hasn't warped Justice into a demon? This isn't absolutely necessary to the prompt by any means, but if Fenris and Anders are trying to build a relationship based on understanding and respect, Justice would inevitably come up in conversation.
> 
> As well as, another fabulous supporter gave me these:
> 
> At the end it seemed like they were going to try for an actual relationship, which is again an unknown to both of them for the most part. So again Anders and Fenris do what they have seen done and/or what worked in the past. This works about as well as can be expected, and there is definitely some sort of crisis in the form of hurt or confusion (and this part could be serious or humorous or both, your pick!) Finally, they use the power of emotional intelligence to realize, hey, these well-worn paths are not working, I'm modeling my behaviors on unhealthy examples, and they adapt, improvise and overcome :)  
>    
> \+ Again please no explicit noncon references/flashbacks.  
> \+ Points for keeping this pre-blowing up the Chantry and before things get too grim-dark.  
> ++ Bonus points for any and all sweet, sweet smut!  
> +++ Extra bonus points for setting up the next chapter!

Fenris could not get enough of that blighted mage.

Since past sunset yesterday--and it was nearly sunset, today--Anders had kept Fenris in a haze of ecstasy. Thoroughly. His body was still thrumming. Delightfully.

Now, there he sat, again. Nearly in reach. At the Hanged Man.

Fenris had arrived late for the Wicked Grace game, on purpose. He preferred the mage to already be seated when he arrived. That way, no matter where Anders sat, he could create space for a seat next to him. He supposed he could have asked Anders to save him a spot, when they had agreed to meet for the game. He was reasonably sure the mage would have done so. Still, there was something about pushing his way into Anders’ personal space that he’d grown to enjoy. No matter how aggressive he was about it, the mage never pushed back. Never changed seats. He gave the elf dirty looks, made sarcastic remarks. But, Anders never stopped him.

Fenris liked that. 

He spotted the mage in question across the tavern. He sat with those who had already arrived for the game. Fenris watched as the mage talked, listened, laughed. Such energy in everything he did. The elf’s mind drifted to last night, and the energy the mage had displayed, then. He smiled to himself, and ordered his drink from the bar. He watched as the mage took a drink from his cup, probably cider. He always drank cider. As he wiped a drop from his lower lip, Fenris’ mind was again taken to last night. Those lips.... 

He was thrumming more insistently, now. He felt his body warm as Anders’ eyes lifted to meet his gaze. Definitely thrumming. While Anders watched, Fenris reached down deliberately to adjust his harding flesh. The mage’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he grinned. How many times last night had Fenris seen that particular narrow-eyed grin? He smirked in return, and paid for his ale.

Approaching the table, he saw that Anders had, indeed, not saved him a space beside him. The elf raised an eyebrow at him, saw the challenge in the returned quirk of lips. Aha. Anders wanted Fenris to bully his way next to him. All the better. He plunked his mug in the table, his arm coming between the mage and Isabela. 

“Shove over,” he said. Isabela appraised him.

“Make it worth my while, and I might.”

He hooked one taloned tip of his gauntlet under the thin strap of her underpants. “How much do you value these?” 

Isabela laughed heartily. “Not as much as you think. But, fine.” She slid down the bench. “Why on earth you always choose to sit next to Blondie, is beyond me.”

He stepped over the bench, and lowered himself into the narrow space beside Anders. He pressed much closer to the mage than he needed. He really did like the feeling of making Anders’ personal space, his own. “Someone needs to keep an eye on him,” he replied.

He felt Anders lean in slightly. “Just an eye?” he muttered.

“For now,” he replied. Just feeling the warmth of the man against his side was adding fuel to his already stoked flames.

He remembered the first time he’d gone warm for the mage. It was the night they’d camped by a lake. After his brain-scrambling concussion in the caverns. He’d spent a troubled afternoon, hiking out of the caves, setting up camp. He’d been distracted by his reaction to Anders, as he’d healed him. 

Anders had healed him, before, probably hundreds of times. Why that time had been so different, he couldn’t say. But, when he’d come-to, and looked up to see the mage leaning over him.... the man was simply beautiful. In truth, the mage was a mess, just like the rest of them; dirty, splattered, hair askew. But, the gentleness of his expression, the intelligence in his honey-hued eyes as he assessed Fenris’ injuries.... 

Then, the damnable mage had leaned in, speaking his name, and Fenris had been this bloody close to kissing him. So, he’d done the next best thing. He’d shoved him away with an insult.

Trying to divine his own emotions wasn’t exactly Fenris’ forte. He was a man of action, strategy. Emotions? In his experience, feelings were a handicap. Best left alone.

Just when he thought he’d managed to put the whole thing out of his mind, he’d walked right into another brain-scrambling scenario. He’d found the mage by the lake, standing quietly, looking up at the full moon. Anders’ expression was serene, calm. And, again, he was beautiful. No, that was insufficient. Anders shone like the damned sun, transcending the moon he gazed upon. Fenris cringed internally at his own sentiment. What was wrong with him?

After that, he couldn’t stay away from the mage. He really couldn’t say what he wanted from him. When he was near him, he felt his whole body flush. He wanted to hear his voice, but their only interactions were harsh words. He wanted to touch him, but the only touch he knew included duress and pain. He’d never experienced attraction, before. So, he did what he knew, just more of it. And, to his unending delight, Anders wasn’t thrown by it. The mage stood his ground, his expression a bit confused, but still never stopped him. 

Well, regardless... He knew what he’d wanted now. Knew what he still wanted. He looked out of the corner of his eye at the man sitting solidly against his side. Why had Fenris insisted they come for the game, again? He was sitting here with shite for a hand, his dick hard enough to cut stone, and the promise of exquisite pleasures nearly sitting in his lap. Hadn’t Anders once made reference to having an ass in a lap? Oh... it truly was an image. Anders, nude, hair undone... straddling his cock... riding him... head thrown back.... those wanton moans of his.... 

“I’m not feeling well. Excuse me.” He stood. “Mage, make yourself useful and see if you can help.”

Anders followed the elf’s lead. “If you think you can stand to have me touch you...” He laid down his cards, and followed Fenris out of the tavern, leaving a bewildered group of players at the table.

The instant the door closed, Fenris had the mage against him, plundering his willing mouth. His hands held Anders tight to his hips, and felt his answering erection. He spoke, lips moving against the mage’s.

“What the hell was I thinking? Playing cards... Your place, or mine?” His tongue was making forays into Anders’ mouth, small moans escaping them both.

“Yours.... I live in a cesspool, remember,” Anders was trying to drag Fenris in the direction of Hightown. It wasn’t easy, with the elf frotting against him as he walked.

“Fuck... I could take you right here,” Fenris muttered. “I should. I doubt you’d mind....”

“I wouldn’t mind. Oh, Maker... that’s hot.... Be careful what you ask for, Elf... You may get it.” 

Fenris’ better judgement won his battle within, and he broke away from the mage with some difficulty. Pulling him along in a brisk trot, they made good time to the elf’s mansion. 

“Strip,” he said, as soon as the front door closed. He was already working on his armor, watching as the mage’s body was revealed. He liked what he saw. He’d liked it when he’d first seen it. He’d always imagined Anders to be frail, even weak, under his layers of tattered robes. He was not. Time on the run and with the Wardens had given him flat, wiry muscles, strong and flexible. Twirling and flinging that ridiculous staff about like a toy had broadened his shoulders and thickened his arms. He was no frail Circle mage. He was as tough in battle as he was compassionate in healing.

And, now he was naked. He stood in the center of the entryway, that narrow-eyed grin on his face, casually stroking his erect shaft. As Fenris stepped out of the last of his gear, he stood and watched the mage. Anders continued with his slow exploration of his own flesh. “I assume you had a particular thought that chased you out of the Hanged Man like you were on fire,” the mage commented wryly.

Fenris was happy to just stand and watch the mage pleasure himself. “I did. It involved my lap and your ass.”

“Then, what are we doing down here?”

Fenris licked his lips. “Enjoying the show.”

Taking steps three at a time, Anders had Fenris to his room and seated on one of the table-chairs, in no time. Fenris watched him, again. He enjoyed watching him. It was as though the past years of traveling, fighting, card-playing had never existed. Like he’d never seen the mage, before that day in the caverns. The way Anders moved, the expressions that passed over his face so freely... Fenris was fascinated.

Now, the mage ignored the erection he’d so boldly displayed, and squatted between Fenris’ knees. His pale, golden-skinned hands slowly traced the elf’s lyrium-lined body. Fernis kept his own hands idle. Aggressive instinct had been ingrained in him. Too often, when overwhelmed, his hands became rough. Anders’ gentle voice spoke.

“Maker, I can’t get enough of looking at you.” He leaned forward, placing open-mouthed kisses along the skin of the elf’s chest. His arms wrapped around Fenris’ waist, hands smoothing along his back. His lips and tongue traveled to one flat, dark nipple, and proceeded to assault it. Fenris’ body shuddered, his hands curling tightly about the sides of the chair seat. This was a pleasure Anders had shown him just this morning. Who knew such sweet torture could be found in such an innocuous bit of flesh? Anders’ mouth moved to the other nipple, extracting the same bliss from it. 

For that matter, who knew any pleasure could be found in the act of sex? Fenris heard his own ridiculously high-pitched whines as the mage laved his skin. Until last night... certainly not himself. 

As Anders moved on to lick and suck along the lyrium lines of his body, Fenris squirmed in heated delight. Another pleasure Anders had shown him. The first time he’d licked the lines adorning his body, Fenris nearly dropped to his knees in debilitating bliss. These cursed markings had caused only torment and pain since the moment they’d been etched into his skin. The complete rapture Anders’ stimulation of them wrought... utterly unexpected. Utterly soul-bending. 

Fenris was panting in desperation, now. Anders was drawing a line with his tongue along the markings, sucking where they joined, making little moans of pleasure as he went. His attention moved down... down... down a line that traveled along his loin, and then made its graceful way up the shaft of his twitching cock. Oh... fuck.....

Anders’ mouth engulfed him. Fenris’ entire body seized, his throat emitting a choked gurgle of shocked rapture. Nothing had ever felt like this... nothing. Anders’ tongue swiped the lines of lyrium along each side of his shaft, his mouth producing glorious suction. Wet heat, soft tongue, tight pressure, all had Fenris writhing, moaning. 

He wasn’t unfamiliar with the act, itself... he was unfamiliar with receiving it. And, the joy with which it was obviously given. Anders’ moans were clearly of positive origin.

His pleasure was rising now, heading to that peak so new to him. “Anders... Anders... I’m....” That talented mouth left his flesh, fingers gripping his base, pulling him back from those marvelous heights. “No! Don’t....” he rasped. The loss of pleasure was like the worst punishment. 

“Shh... Shh... I’m not done,” Anders’ eyes were shining at him, lips swollen and wet. “There was talk of a lap being filled....” he said, kissing him softly. A small burst of magic, and Anders was rising to his feet, only to gracefully, carefully, lower himself over Fenris.

“Remember,” Anders’ voice struggled, the mage’s body slowly encompassing his turgid flesh. “I told you this morning...” His body was gliding tightly down. “...I’ll never leave you wanting.” His voice gave way to a gasp as he was seated clear to Fenris’ root. 

Tight... so tight. Hot. Slick from Anders’ clever spell. Both men groaned at the feeling. Fenris let go of the chair, and wrapped his arms about the mage, smooth skin with a heated flush under his hands. He pulled those swollen lips to his, and gently smoothed them together. 

Anders moved, then. His long legs reached the floor, enabling him to lift his body slowly, and lower it just as slow. Fenris closed his eyes at the sensation. This was his third time to feel pleasure in the sex act. Three times, now, he’d felt the bliss of two bodies joining. The first two, Anders had pulled him on top, allowed him to take control, and he’d ridden that unimaginable wave of ecstasy under his own power. This... feeling the bliss, without the effort of his own body... just feeling it happen.... 

His head rolled back on his neck, mouth dropping open to give his voice free reign. Anders kept that slow pace, his long fingers stroking into the elf’s hair. His hips began to undulate as he rode him. Fenris felt himself beginning to tremble. Everything Anders did to him left him barely able to think. Such pleasure, that the mage was so willing to give him.... The elf’s voice took a desperate tone. Anders took advantage of Fenris’ exposed throat to suck the markings there. With a jolt, Fenris’ hips jerked forcefully into the mage’s body. Anders groaned, loudly.

“Yes... Maker, Fenris... right there....”

He gasped, “Right where? What’s there?” He did it , again, and felt Anders shudder.

“The sweet spot... Maker, yes... I’ll show you, later....” and, he was lost to Fenris’ motions.

Sweet spot... the wonders this man knew. He willed his eyes open to watch Anders as the mage rode him. His face was bust open in unadulterated bliss. His lips parted as he panted and gasped, moaning wantonly... Oh, those moans.... The sound of the mage’s voice in rapture.... Fenris’ dick spiked with pleasure. His hands slid down Anders’ back to grasp his ass. He felt the muscles flex and move, dug in his fingers, and moved the mage hard, thrusting himself deep. Anders shouted, body clenching the elf’s cock. The slow ride was over.

Fenris gripped the mage’s hips, pulling him down to meet his cock slamming up. He felt his face pulling into the snarl it usually wore for battle. He supposed it was similar... his body striving to reach completion; even as it fought to hold it off. Thinking ceased as his body climbed the heights. He felt the tightening of his loins, the exquisite over-sensitivity of his dick as Anders’ body stroked it with heat and desperate tension. He felt Anders’ hand move against his belly as the mage stroked his own shaft, the pleasure both within and without dragging Anders up and over his summit, harsh cries as he spent himself between them. Internal muscles convulsed around him, and Fenris was there... hanging suspended for an eternal instant... and then bursting into bliss. Oh... the bliss... oh... Anders....

His head dropped forward onto the sweaty, heaving shoulder in front of him. He pulled Anders tightly against him, opening his mouth to taste the mage’s sweat. This pleasure of the body... it was addicting.

He felt hands card through his hair, a stubbled jawline nuzzle against his temple.

“What you’d imagined?” a slightly roughened voice asked.

“More,” he replied. He helped support the mage as Anders stood, carefully disengaging his body from the elf.

“I’m done in,” Anders chuckled. “I need to be horizontal for a bit.”

Normally, Fenris eschewed physical contact. Sometimes, the lyrium markings were sensitive. Like a bad sunburn or a raw wound, friction set them stinging. And, when one line of the markings was set on fire, it traveled to the rest of them. That wasn’t often, fortunately. If he’d taken a lot of magic attacks in a fight, they could fizzle for hours.

In his memory, personal contact meant punishment or pain. Danarius, as far as Masters went, wasn’t overtly cruel. He was cold... so cold. Cold enough to kill a child for a party trick. But, his pleasures didn’t come from the crudity of physical torture. Even so, nothing pleasant came from being touched by his Master. 

Showing-off his creation to admiring sycophants, he’d run his hand down Fenris’ chest, lighting the lyrium with his magic. Standing still, face frozen into the accepted complacency of a slave, he’d fought the sting of a thousand hornets that ran through the markings. Or, more basely, taking the forced depredations of sex neither asked for nor consented to, he’d bitten back any sound of discomfort. Danarius hadn’t sought to cause pain. He’d simply not cared if he gave it.

But, from the first touch of Anders’ hands, Fenris wanted more. Whether in sex, in sleep, in the tavern... Anders’ touch meant only pleasure or peace.

That Anders was so tactile was a boon. Fenris had no words to ask for... cuddles. Simply pulling the mage against him suited him much better. Anders never complained. In fact, in bed, the mage never demanded, never argued, never ran at the mouth except with passionate appeals or afterglow murmurs. 

Had Fenris known he could stop the rambling dissertations of mage rights, Circle-bashing and templar-hate--just by taking the mage in his arms--he’d have instituted slumber-parties years ago.

He growled at himself. He’d promised to try respect, and he’d meant it. For whatever reason, Anders had put himself in Fenris’ inexperienced hands, and he would honor that trust.

The mage was wound around him, at the moment. Arms and legs hopelessly entwined; Fenris’ head tucked under his chin. Neither was particularly tired, other than pleasantly fatigued from their exertions. “You have had a lot of sex,” the elf observed.

Anders fingers stopped combing through the elf’s hair for a second, then, he chuckled lightly. “I suppose. Your point?”

Fenris shrugged. “You know many things. How to touch, how to please.”

“Well... you learn by doing.”

“I’ve done... many things. But, I don’t know the things you do.” He felt Anders’ arms tighten. When he answered, his voice was somewhat rough.

“You’ve never explored what pleases you. That’s how you learn to make love to another. Being told what to do for someone who’s forcing you... that’s... it’s not the same. You just learn to fear those things.”

Fenris thought about it for a moment. “What’s the ‘sweet spot’?” he finally asked.

The mage chuckled, again. “Ahhh, that’s the loveliest thing to learn, of all. I’m going to enjoy showing you that. There’s a place inside men, that is so delightfully, wonderfully, sensitive... stroking it is beyond.... Well, you’ll have to experience it yourself. It’s different for everyone, I can’t tell you what you’ll feel.”

“I have never felt any such thing when being penetrated.”

“Not with your experiences, no. But, trust me, you do have a sweet spot. If you ever decide you’d like to try penetration the way it should be done, let me know. It would be my distinct pleasure to show you.”

“Do women have it, as well?”

“Not in the same place. The geography’s different, but most points of interest are there, in some form.”

Fenris chuckled. “You have such a way with words, Mage.”

“You have such an adorable laugh.”

“If you say so.” The mage found him adorable. He found he liked that. “Are there... do you want...” he was stammering. “You do most of the...doing... between us. What would you like... done?”

Anders had smiled as Fenris tried to find words. “I like this stammering elf. Much more appealing than the biting-remarks elf.”

“Don’t mock me, Mage.”

“I’m not mocking you. I’m reveling in you.” The mage poked a finger into his chest. “Let me tell you something, right now: I will not mock you or ridicule you in matters of intimacy, Fenris. If you find yourself wondering if that’s what I’m doing, the answer is ‘No’. And, please tell me... so I can explain. You’re putting a lot of trust in me. I won’t have it undone by miscommunication. Our personal history is fraught with hurtful words. They have no place here.”

Fenris gauged the look on the mage’s face. Anders was so vehement about this. Perhaps he struggled with the same fall into habit that Fenris did. “Agreed.”

Anders relaxed. “But, as far as what I want... just you. Feel free to explore. I’m pretty open to most activities.”

“But, what do you enjoy a partner doing?”

“My goodness. Anything I’ve done to you. Is something in particular on your mind?”

“Not yet. I’ll be sure to let you know.”

\-----------------------------

Fenris found himself jealous of Anders’ time. He found himself horrified by that fact. He was a free man, now. He needed no one. He had built his own life, and formed his circle of companions. Most of them enjoyable, none of them essential. This need for Anders’ company was disturbing.

He also found it difficult to invite the mage to his home. Which was why it had been several nights since they’d been together. He would not beg for affection. He’d done just that during his time as a pet, both willingly and not. Asking Anders to spend time with him was too close in comparison. 

He followed Hawke through Darktown. He hated the place. Even slaves in Tevinter didn’t live in such squalid conditions. Most would gladly live so to be free, he supposed. But, to see any people reduced to living in a midden.... it certainly showed the true character of the city. He also detested that Anders lived here. It hadn’t bothered him, before. He’d found it fitting, in his ire at the mage, that he live there. Not now. More of those damned emotions he couldn’t make head nor tails of.

Hawke was ambling into the clinic. Fenris laid eyes on the mage’s back, bent over a patient on a cot. A small child, screaming in fear and pain. Blue healing light shone over the child, and his cries quieted. Fenris moved discreetly along the wall to watch. Anders was cleaning blood from the child’s face, frowning. He examined the eye he had cleaned, bending close and tilting the toddler’s head at various angles. He closed his eyes and pulled up energy, then directed it to the eye in question. He was still bent close, face intense, frowning deeply. 

Finally, he ceased the healing magic, shaking his head. He gently brushed hair off of the child’s face, and spoke softly, with a gentle smile. Fenris heard a burble of childish laughter, and a small hand reached for a feather on the mage’s paldrons. Anders plucked the feather, placed it in the pudgy hand. When he beckoned to the waiting mother, his face was unhappy. The woman took her child in her arms and thanked Anders, carrying the small figure from the clinic. Anders followed to snuff the lantern and lock the door.

“Little one all better?” Hawke asked.

Anders’ face was filled with anger. “No, damn it, he’s not all better. He’s lost his eye.” He was agitated, pacing. “He was playing near his family’s tent, when a pair of templars came by. He was in their path, and one of them struck him out of the way. A little baby... he hit him with his gauntlet, and put out his fucking eye, Hawke!” His skin began to crack and emit blue light. His voice was louder. “Because he was playing in the sewer where he’s forced to barely live!” His eyes began to glow. “Templars have no humanity, no empathy! They trod upon anyone unlucky enough to fall into their path, and woe be to those who might object!”

Fenris had seen Anders turn to Justice just once. It had terrified him, infuriated him, on a very primal level. He’d seen many abominations in Tevinter. Created from unwilling hosts, by power-hungry magisters. 

This wasn't even full-on Justice. It was still Anders, losing his grip in the thrall of anger. This was Anders, he kept telling himself, even as his arm pulled his blade from his back. This was Anders, who would not harm him. But, would Justice? Where did one end, and the other begin? “Anders,” he spoke softly, carefully. “Stop... make it stop, now.” The demon struggling within his lover’s skin turned to his voice, took a step toward him. His lyrium flared in his alarm, and the demon... fainted? Fell backward? Anders remained upright, but the light of the demon just slipped away.

Anders put his hands to his face, sniffing, wiping his eyes. “Maker, Fenris. What did you do?” 

He breathed out, in relief. “I did nothing. Are you alright, now? Are you, you?”

“I’m always me,” he replied, gruffly. He was still sniffling. Fenris realized he was weeping. “He's only three,” he muttered. Ah... the little boy. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. Anders nodded. Part of him wanted to comfort him. Another part wanted to run from him. From the mage with the demon inside of him. From the healer who wept for a small child. From the man who brought him such ecstasy.  
He saw that Anders was watching him. Was reading him as clearly as a book.

“I’m sorry, too,” the mage said. Fenris knew he wasn’t talking about the child. “Put away your sword. Unless, you’re planning to use it.”

Fenris swung it onto his back. He hardly heard what Hawke and Anders discussed. He watched Anders. It was just Anders. Same voice, same face, same amber eyes. Anders.

He and Hawke apparently came to some conclusion. Hawke turned to leave, and gave a questioning look to Fenris. “You go ahead.” He needed to say something to the mage.

Anders regarded him warily. "Something on your mind?"

“I hate the demon inside you. It scares the hell out of me. Whenever you talk of it, or I see it, it’s all I can do not to throttle you. It makes me furious that you willingly allowed it to possess you. It’s dangerous, it’ll probably kill you, in the end; and no good can possibly come of it.”

Anders blinked. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Fenris?”

Fenris scowled. “This is no joke, Mage. This is deadly serious.”

“Deadly. You’re going to kill me, now?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“But, it’s still on your list?”

“Venhedis, Anders!” He had nowhere left to go with the conversation. They had argued this topic with fierce spite, for years. Unless he planned to come to blows over it, he’d said all that he could say. Sighing, he walked toward Anders and held out his arms. 

The relief in the mage’s eyes was clear. Fenris was welcomed into his embrace. “I’m sorry I scared you."

“Festis bei umo canavarum. I mean it. I don’t like it, Anders.”

“Well, he likes you.”

“That isn’t helping. Nor funny. When a demon likes someone, bad things happen.”

“Well, first, he’s not a demon. Second, he likes your lyrium.”

“How much, exactly, does it like it? Enough to rip it out of me?”

Anders was kissing his way up his neck. “No, that's really not his style. But, when you lit up, he about swooned.” He pulled Fenris’ earlobe into his mouth. 

“That’s what that was....” despite his emotions--or perhaps because of them--he was falling under Anders’ ministrations. “Good to know.” He was losing concentration as his body responded as it always did. How could his dick get hard when they were discussing that demon? Were there no limits to Anders’ powers of seduction?

“I agree...” came the mage’s muffled reply. He claimed the elf’s mouth, and plundered it. His lips... oh, those lips... moved over Fenris’ with determination. He let the mage have his way, offering no resistance to the domination of his kiss.

Fenris’ hands roamed over Anders’ body as much as he could with those tatty robes in his way. He undid the buckles, and slid his arms inside, just the long tunic now between Anders and his touch. He felt his belt loosened, and dropped to the floor. He was turned and his back pressed to the wall

Anders left his lips, resting their foreheads together. “I’ve missed you these past nights,” he said, breathlessly.

“I’ve missed you, as well.” He moaned as the mage grasped his ass with both hands, pulling his pelvis against Anders’. “This is how we first started,” he observed, his voice deep.

“I know. If we could go back... would you still make the same choice?” He could feel his own arousal, hardening. He could feel Anders’, pressing against him insistently.

“I would. Nothing has changed. You are who you were then. I am simply... unsettled by events.” He slowly moved himself against Anders’ rigid flesh. 

Something about his reply affected Anders. The mage exhaled, almost a sob, and ground desperately against him. The elf understood... Anders needed reassurance. 

“I’m going nowhere, Mage,” he rasped, his body as overwhelmed by Anders as his lips had been. The mage rutted against him, nervous energy, fear, driving him to seek comfort from Fenris' body. Anders was panting hard, gasping. Surprisingly quickly, the mage whimpered and shuddered; shaft pulsing as he spent himself. Before even catching his breath, the mage dropped to his knees. Peeling down the waistband of Fenris’ leggings, Anders swallowed him whole. 

Like the first time, Fenris’ whole body convulsed. If not for Anders’ hands on his thighs, his knees would have buckled. Sweet, wet warmth. Suction. Fingers fondling his sack. His head hit the wall when he threw it back, eyes shut tight against the intense pleasure. 

“Anders...” he croaked. The answering hum sent his hips thrusting forward. He could feel Anders chuckle as the mage’s hands held his hips firm against the wall. The chuckle vibrated up his cock even more than the hum had. His open mouth emitted gasp after whining gasp; he couldn’t have kept quiet if he’d tried. 

His hands slid into Anders’ hair before he thought, but Anders didn’t seem to mind. Intention, not action... he gripped those golden locks like a lifeline. Because, he wouldn’t live through this onslaught. He was being undone. If Anders harbored a demon, it was a succubus, and Fenris its willing victim. 

The pleasure from Anders’ mouth was traveling up Fenris’ lyrium lines, spreading over his body. His cock was the nexus of pleasure, his entire body focused on the rigid flesh in Anders’ mouth, the ripples of ecstasy cascading through him. 

Anders kept him in that ecstatic place for what felt like an eternity. Fenris rode wave after wave of pleasure as Anders' mouth and tongue played him like an instrument. He couldn't speak, could barely breathe, as he succumbed to unknown delight.

His gasps were turning to sobs, he wept with the bliss. Anders’ fingers massaged behind his sack, and he felt the rise abruptly begin. “Anders....” his voice cracked, as he fell over the peak. His eyes, though closed, saw his vision go white... and, he exploded in unspeakable pleasure. It went on for an eternity... pulsing, shuddering, convulsing, mouth wide around silent gasps. 

He felt Anders’ mouth catching all that he spent, swallowing all he gave, gentling him through the intensity of it. His body collapsed, and Anders guided him onto his lap, straddling his knees. 

It had been the most intense pleasure he’d yet experienced. He was overwhelmed. He let Anders hold him as he struggled to breathe, his head lying on the mage’s feathered shoulder. Warm hands rubbed his back, warm lips pressed against his neck. He shivered.

“Wow,” came Anders’ voice. “That looked pretty intense from where I stood--er, knelt.”

Fenris started to laugh. "Mage. I cannot even begin to describe.” He lifted his head, feeling slightly wobbly. “What did you do to me?”

Anders ran his fingers through his hair, smiling widely. “Apparently, something right. That was incredible to see.”

Fenris kissed him. He tasted himself on Anders, and he liked it. He cupped the mage’s face in his gauntleted hands, and kissed him thoroughly.

“Come home with me, tonight."

“I’d like that.”

It really wasn’t that difficult, after all.

\-------------------------

“Please tell me you don’t agree with the Qunari view of mages.” 

They were traversing yet another passage below the city, escorting a giant, collared, lip-sewn, qunari mage to the Wounded Coast. How Hawke got himself, and the rest of them, into these situations, Fenris would never know. Now, Anders was starting a debate about mage-rights. He’d hoped they were past that.

“I admire their caution with regard to the dangers of magic,” he said carefully.

Anders’ face was aghast. “Are you kidding me? He’s enslaved! He’s wearing a collar... Maker’s sake, his mouth is sewn shut!”

Fenris frowned. “I admit that the collar brings unpleasant memories.”

“So, you can see the injustice of his treatment?”

“Anders, what do you want to hear me say? I know what you’re hoping for, and you know I can’t say it.”

“What, that mages should be free? Would you prefer to see me in this situation?” he gestured to the Qunari. 

Fenris sighed. “No. I would not. Although, at this moment, the mouth sewn shut is enviable.”

Anders fumed. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Anders kept his thoughts to himself for the rest of the journey. Even when Fenris walked closely enough to trod on the mage’s feet, Anders scowled, but remained silent. Until the Qunari waiting on the coastline spoke of killing their mage compatriot. Then, the mage found his voice. Anders pleaded with Hawke not to allow it. Fenris shook his head. Why do people insist on arguing with the horned giants? It does no good. Of course, battle ensued.

Fighting a trained karataam is not easy, but Hawke’s group of misfit mercenaries managed. The last qunari to go down lost his weapon to Fenris’ parry, and as a last-ditch attack, threw a large handful of sand into the elf’s eyes.

Fenris staggered back, blinded by what felt like a thousand glass shards piercing his eyes. He heard the qunari go down, and dropped his blade to try to press his hands against the slicing pain.

“Don’t rub them,” Anders’ calm voice was in his ear. He was being pulled against his chest, one hand pulled from his eyes, and looped over the mage’s shoulder. “Lean sideways, hold on so you don’t fall.”

Firm fingers pulled one eyelid up, and water was doused over the exposed orb.

“Venhedis!” He hissed. The water continued irrigating the sand away. When Anders was satisfied, he shifted the elf in his arms to lean the other direction. The cleansing continued, on the other eye.

“It stings,” he complained. 

“I know. I can’t heal them until the sand is gone. Just hang on.”

Soon, he was upright again, with Anders’ fingers peeling his eyelids open to assess the damage. “Not bad. Here....” blue light flashed, and the stinging stopped. With that, the elf could see properly. He saw golden hair shining against blue sky; amber eyes startlingly close to his. Anders’ voice was low, now, a bare murmur. “I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

Fenris fought back a smirk, murmuring in reply. “Don’t you hate me?”

Anders scowled. “You know damned well I don’t.” He stepped back. “Your eyes should be fine.”

“Appreciated, Mage.”

They looked around to find Hawke standing next to the burning body of the Saraabas. 

“He killed himself? After all that?”

Fenris shrugged. “Qunari are firm in their convictions.” He turned back to the pensive mage. “I would not allow you to be treated as the Saraabas, Anders.”

Anders nodded. “I’d rather you not want any mage treated that way.”

“I know. You can’t force change down my throat. It only chokes me.”

Anders looked at him in that assessing way. Fenris knew he understood. The elf wasn’t completely inflexible. Just... cautious with transition.

\-------------------------------------- 

They fell into a pattern of sorts. Most nights, Anders graced Fenris’ doorway after sundown. If he hadn’t shown by the time the elf turned-in to bed, he likely wouldn’t. Fenris didn’t ask what he did on those evenings. He wasn’t accustomed to making queries about others’ business, just as he wasn’t accustomed to offering up his own business to others.

Regardless of how much he might want to drag the mage to bed, Fenris always made sure the man had food, first. Anders barely ate, as it was. It pleased the elf to assure he’d had at least one decent meal that day. Anders could eat, too. He easily put away twice what most men his size would.

“It’s the Taint.” he explained, serving himself thirds of the stew Fenris had simmered that day. “You should have seen me after the Joining. I ate all day long. Even while we travelled, I was shoving food in my mouth. And, that’s impressive on it’s own, because Oghren’s stench was enough to put anyone off their feed.”

 

Fenris nursed his wine, watching Anders as he ate. Anything the mage did, that involved his mouth, Fenris was happy to be a spectator. “From what you’ve described, that dwarf is completely unlike any dwarf I’ve ever met.”

Anders nodded and swallowed. “He was. Most of Orzammar didn’t care for him, apparently. Not even his wife. Good fighter. Kind of funny. You’d like him. Insulting me was one of his favorite pastimes. Usually, it was pretty pathetic, but it passed time in the Deep Roads.”

Fenris scowled. “I’d like a filthy, drunken dwarf who insulted you?”

“Well, not the filthy, drunken part, maybe. But, you’ve done your share of mage-mocking, you know.” His spoon scraped the bottom of his bowl. He set it aside, decorously covering a large belch. “That was excellent, Fenris, thank you.”

“I’ve mocked you?” Anders looked up, surprised by the defense in the elf’s tone.

“Fenris... yes. Of course, yes. You know you have. You’ve done it for years. I mean, not so much lately. Do you really not remember?”

“Such as?”

Anders’ expression was quizzical. “Seriously? You want to go over this? You want me to repeat hurtful things you’ve said? Why would I want to hear it, again?”

“So I know how I hurt you in the past. So I can avoid it, in the future,” Fenris replied. 

Anders just shook his head. “Fine. Well... you could start by NOT telling me I should be made Tranquil.”

Fenris’ eyes narrowed at that. “I have never said that.”

“You did. You asked why Karl had been made Tranquil. And, you said you knew some mages that deserve it. Doesn’t take a genius to figure who you meant,” he bit out.

“Apparently, it does. I was not referring to you,” Fenris bit back.

“Really? To what other abomination were you referring?”

“Stop it. I didn’t mean you. I was thinking of certain Magisters and their apprentices. I have never thought that of you.” Fenris hurt inside, now, and had no idea why. “My stomach hurts,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around his middle.

Anders was immediately concerned, and came to his side of the table. “Where?” his hands were sliding over Fenris’ abdomen. The unhesitating solicitude from the mage made his belly clench tighter, and he curled over himself. “Fenris, describe it to me.”

“It’s just... It’s tight, and the more you fuss, the worse it gets.” Anders’ healing magic glowed on his hands, and he held them over Fenris’ abdomen. 

“There’s nothing physically wrong...” Anders stopped, suddenly, and looked at Fenris with surprise. He considered his words before speaking. “Have you ever hurt someone’s feelings? That you later felt badly about?” 

“Not that I felt badly about.” 

Anders was watching him with his healer’s-gaze. Assessing him. “I’m sorry I misunderstood you, so many years ago. All this time, I thought....”

Fenris shook his head. “I regret it, as well. For future reference, I do not wish you made Tranquil. I never have.”

Anders tipped up Fenris’ chin, and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips. Fenris returned it, feeling the tightness ease.

“How’s your stomach, now?”

“Not as tight.”

Anders gave a small smile, and moved back to his seat. “Hurting someone you care for can be more painful for you than for them.”

Fenris thought on the meaning of those words. He scowled. “I never said I--”

“You don’t have to. I don’t expect you to.” He poured himself some cider that Fenris had begun to stock. “Back on the topic. You once said I would do well in Tevinter. Do I really come off as some blood-magic practicing, slave owning, arrogant bastard?”

“No.”

“I... you... No?”

“I was wrong about that. You would suffer there, as I did.”

“Oh. Thank you.” 

Fenris folded his arms on the table and watched Anders sip his cider. This conversation was fraught with pitfalls. And, emotions. He didn’t like that Anders saw him so clearly. That he knew how much Fenris cared. He’d more or less admitted to it their first night together. Still... fasta vass. He should be grateful the mage read him so easily. He would never find words or courage to express what he felt. He barely knew what he felt. 

Anders spoke, and he braced himself for another bout of emotional boxing. 

“I’m sorry I called you a vicious killer for ripping people’s hearts out of their chests.” 

Fenris flinched, then he started to chuckle. Anders’ apology was sincere, but his wording failed to absolve Fenris of the accusation.

Anders looked confused for a beat, then he started to laugh, as well. Fenris let himself laugh, feeling much better for it. “Perhaps, I deserved that one,” he suggested.

“Well, the way I put it, yes,” Anders rubbed his face. “If we’re going to judge insults based on their accuracy, I suppose I am an abomination, after all.” His face lost some of its jocularity. “I do harbor a Fade spirit. I guess that’s the correct definition.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Fenris said. He really didn’t.

“We have to.” Anders was sincere, again. 

“There’s nothing to be said. I said it all at your clinic that evening. What can be added that will change anything?”

“I didn’t say anything that night. Other than Justice likes your lyrium.”

Fenris dropped his head to his arms. He did not want to discuss the demon. He sighed. “Fine. Speak your piece.” He raised his head to meet the mage’s eyes. 

Anders returned his gaze with silent appeal. “He’s not a demon, Fenris. If he was, he’d have already turned me into a true abomination, run rampant, and hopefully been killed.” Fenris felt his chest go cold at the casual description. 

“It’s true that certain Fade spirits are warped into demons when they possess a living body. But, some spirits embody an ideal, and it isn’t corrupted. Justice is one of those. He’s intelligent, thinking, has honor and empathy.”

“It consumes you, Anders. In the Chantry, it took control of you. It almost did, again, in your clinic.”

“I can control him. He simply has no tolerance for injustice. Hence, the name. You know, I got to know him when he was still in the Fade, in his true form. He was accidentally cast out of it, and ended up in the corpse of a Grey Warden. He was a nice person... spirit... entity? He tried to help the widow of the Warden he was inhabiting come to peace with it all. You probably would have liked him.”

“I would not have. I hear what you’re trying to tell me. But, I cannot bring myself to believe it’s a benevolent being. Not when it takes control of you as it does.”

Anders nodded, sighing. “Well. You heard me. That’s all I really wanted.” He drained the last of his cider, and twirled his cup idly. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, thinking on the conversation. 

Fenris watched Anders’ face, seeing the little twitches and flickers that crossed it. He stood, and reached for the mage’s hand. Anders blinked up at him, allowing him to lead him to the bed. Quietly, Fenris undressed the mage, placing gentle kisses on each region of skin as it was revealed. Anders let him, his hands caressing what he could reach of Fenris as the elf went about his work. 

Once he had the mage naked, he used gentle pressure to sit him, and then lie him, on the bed. He stripped out of his tunic and leggings, and joined him. Anders was watching him expectantly with warm eyes. Always such a warm, accepting gaze.

Fenris traced around those eyes with his fingers. Then, down his long nose, to his talented lips, along the stubble on his chin. He nuzzled his nose against the mage’s ear, and whispered, “Teach me about my sweet spot.”

Anders flashed him that narrow-eyed grin. 

In moments, or in hours, or in an eternity, Anders had Fenris lying on his back, panting. With just his lips on his mouth and his hand on his torso, the mage was setting the elf on fire. He ran a hand down to Fenris’ groin, and spread his legs.

“I’d like to use a spell... the one I use on myself. If you’d rather I not--”

“It’s fine,” he panted.

He felt Anders slide one amazing hand down below his sack, and gently touch his entrance. “The moment you say stop, I stop,” he murmured, kissing him again. Fenris felt a small burst of magic. He also felt suddenly relaxed, under the mage’s hand. As Anders’ finger massaged the puckered flesh, he felt himself open, and accept the tenderly probing digit. He was amazed.

“There’s no pain,” he said wonderingly.

Anders smiled. “Good. There shouldn’t be.” His finger was lazily making forays and retreats through the lubricated ring of muscle. When he added a second finger, Fenris was again amazed at the lack of pain. The sensation of being penetrated wasn’t new, but the comfort of it was. Suddenly, he was arching his back in rapture. Anders was stroking a place inside of him that was lighting every pleasure-nerve in his body on fire. 

“Unnggggghhhhh.... Anders.... gahhhhhhhhh.....” he twitched, he bucked, he writhed. He threw his head back and moaned in an agony of bliss. He was going to die, he knew it. There was no way his body could feel this extreme pleasure and survive. He was shoving himself down on the mage’s fingers in a wanton display of lust, and he didn’t give a damn what he looked or sounded like. 

Anders’ voice, hoarse with want, was whispering in his ear. “You want more?” He could only answer in a moan, nodding frantically. “Do you trust me?” He nodded again, yes-yes-yes. “Would you like me to fuck you?” He nearly spent himself at those words, nodding wildly. Even if it hurt, he didn’t care. He wanted the mage right now more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Anders moved over him, kissing him breathless. The talented fingers left his body, and he felt the mage’s hard shaft at his entrance.

He felt Anders’ lips at his ear, again. “I won’t hurt you, Fenris,” he murmured through labored breaths... and then he slid inside of his wanting body.

There was a slight stretch at first, that eased quickly, and then Anders was seated completely within him. He heard the mage gasping, opened his eyes to see his passion-blown face struggling for control. His amber eyes opened, looked into Fenris’ own. “You alright?” he groaned. Fenris was beyond words. He wrapped his legs around Anders’ hips, and thrust up against him. Anders groaned again, his pelvis snapping forward. “Fenris... oh, Maker... so good... you don’t know... oh, Maker....”

Fenris barely managed to breathe through the first few thrusts, overwhelmed by the sensation of it, the mutual pleasure. Then, Anders altered his angle, and Fenris nearly screamed with ecstasy. His body hijacked his brain, and it was all he could do to hang on. Anders knew what he was about, and he stroked his rigid cock over Fenris’ sweet spot, relentlessly. The mage gave no sign of stopping, his tempo steady, driving Fenris to heights he’d never before reached. Pleasure, upon pleasure, upon bliss, upon bliss.... His world narrowed down to the body between his thighs, the cock in his ass, the man panting in his ear.

His limbs clung to Anders, cleaving his body to him. He writhed helplessly, voice ringing out with desperate cries. Just when he thought there was no more pleasure to possibly be had, Anders’ hand slid between their bodies, and grasped Fenris’ leaking cock. He lost his breath, his back bowing hard as the sensation spiraled him to his peak. The wringing hand whipped him into completion, his raw voice wailing with his release.

Anders rode him clear through the aftershocks, his gasping voice repeating words as reached his peak. Fenris opened his eyes when he realized it was his name the mage was chanting. Anders was transported in his rapture. He was magnificent, wild, beautiful. Fenris was transfixed by him as the mage shouted in wordless ecstasy, hot bursts filling the elf. 

Anders’ body thrust compulsively a few last times as he settled over the elf, lungs laboring. Fenris kept his limbs wrapped about him, reluctant to let go. He nuzzled the mage’s neck, breathing his scent, feeling the heat of his flushed skin. He drifted in a slightly altered state. 

This had been beyond any pleasures they’d shared, before. This had been like... communion. 

Anders raised his head, eventually, his eyes searching Fenris’ face. He looked as though he wanted to speak. He kissed the elf, instead. Slow, deep, sensual kisses that said much more than any words. 

Carefully, he pulled himself from Fenris’ body, sending a final shudder through both of them. He pulled the boneless elf against him. 

Fenris had no words. Anders asked for none. 

\-------------------------------

It was Wicked Grace night, and Fenris had arrived late. As usual. Anders wasn’t there, which was unusual. Nor was Hawke, Sebastian and Isabela. He brought his ale to the table, where the others had gathered.

“Where is everyone else?” he asked Varric. The dwarf looked up from shuffling his cards. He seemed surprised to see him standing there.

“I figured you’d know. Blondie needed help with a mage-thing. Hawke took Rivaini and Choir Boy for back-up. Guess there was some trouble. Hawke didn’t mention it?”

“I have not seen Hawke.” He hadn’t seen Anders, either. Why would the mage not ask him for assistance, if he had needed it?

“Huh. Seems Justice made an appearance. Nearly killed a girl mage. Blondie was pretty shook-up.” Fenris turned on his heel and made for the exit, his stomach like ice. 

The clinic was dark when he approached it. The door was unlocked. He cautiously entered, not knowing what, or who, to expect. He saw a faint light coming from behind a drape at the back of the clinic. He made his way on silent feet to investigate. He saw it was a tiny bedroom, of sorts. The man he sought was sitting on a cot, head in his hands.

“Anders.”

The mage’s head jerked up, startled. “Fenris.” He lowered his gaze from the elf’s face. “You heard.”

“Varric.”

“Word travels fast.”

“I seem to recall you saying something a while ago....”

Anders dropped his head back into his hands. “Shut up.”

“‘I can control it.’ Wasn’t that what you said?”

“So help me....”

Fenris moved into the room, sat next to the mage. “Why did you not ask me to go with you today?”

“Because you’d act like you just did. You have no interest in helping mages.”

“I want to help a particular mage.”

“Do you? Justice and I... we’re just a monster. Same as any abomination. Justice has become a creature of Vengeance, warped by my anger.”

“I can help you control it.”

“How do you hope to do that? ”

Fenris activated his lyrium markings. “It swoons for me,” he said wryly.

Anders’ head raised, and stared at him. “Maker, I’m a fool.” 

“Yes. But, you’re my fool.”

“Still?”

“Nothing’s changed. You are still who you are. Come to me when you need help. Whatever you need, I am ready to assist.”

“Even for a mage-problem?”

“Yes. Even for that. If we’re going to do this... thing... between us, we need to trust each other more than in the bedroom. I do not want to hear of your suffering third-hand, Anders. I can protect you. I want to protect you.”

Anders leaned against him, and Fenris wrapped an arm about his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I thought I was protecting you. From... mage-things.”

“You are mage-things, Anders. I know what being with you entails.”

Anders sighed. “I’m so tired.”

Fenris man-handled him to lie back on the cot. He squeezed in beside him, pulling the mage against him. “Tell me about your mage-y day, and what was accomplished.”

So, Anders talked, and Fenris listened. After he’d told the whole story, complete with Ser Alrik’s declined proposal and Hawke convincing Anders to stay, the mage drifted to sleep. Fenris let him sleep, though he was uneasy. Would Anders have run, if not for Hawke’s intervention? If anyone understood the impulse to run, it was Fenris. He’d run for years. But, there had been no one to miss him, other than Danarius. Would Anders have talked to Fenris, first? Or, would he have simply left, with no goodbye? 

He let himself slip into sleep, uncomfortably crammed onto the cot as he was, arms wrapped about the man. He had almost lost Anders to the mage’s instinct to run, today. He wasn’t about to let go of him, tonight. 

\--------------------------------

“Why do you ask me to do this, Hawke? I have no desire to enter the Fade.” 

Hawke was gathering a team to rescue the Dreamer Mage, Feynriel, from the Fade. Fenris didn’t like any of it. Dreamers were highly sought in Tevinter. That alone made him wary. The Fade was dangerous. Frankly, he was tired of putting his neck on the line for strange mages. 

“Aveline can’t get away. I need another warrior. I’ve got Anders and Varric--”

“Anders? You’re taking him into the Fade? Is that wise, with his demon?”

“I’d rather have him than Merrill, if we end up confronting demons. And, he volunteered.”

“I’ll go.”

Now, he was in the creepy-crawly, unreal-feeling Fade. He did not like it. Nothing was as it should be. He turned to Anders, who was turned toward Hawke. 

“I am Justice,” he heard the demon’s voice say. 

He reacted on a gut-level. Grabbing the thing by the arm, he spun him around. As he’d feared, Anders’ face was shot with blue, his eyes glowing.

“Where the hell is Anders, demon?” He ground out.

“He sleeps.”

“Get out, and bring him here.”

“No. We agree it is best for me to be here. It is good to feel the Fade, again.”

Fenris was fuming. He took hold of the robes, and dragged him forcibly to the side, ignoring Hawke’s call. “You have been holding Anders hostage under your capricious temper for too long. You’re home, now. Get out. Leave, and give Anders his life back.”

“I cannot. I am yet connected to Anders’ body. You misunderstand, Elf. Anders does not wish me gone.”

“He does. He fears what you do. You nearly killed that girl in the Underground.”

“That was unfortunate. At times, the world outside the Fade is confusing. However, Anders needs me. He feels unequal to the task ahead. I give him confidence.”

“What task?” It was a forbidding statement, to say the very least.

“Justice for all mages. You’ve heard him speak of it.”

“Ad nauseum. He does not need some demon riding roughshod in his mind to lead him into disaster.”

“I am no demon. Cease calling me such. I will lead Anders nowhere he does not wish to go. Neither do I lead him away from that which he desires. To do either would be unjust. In spite of your alluring song, I do not approve of his obsession with you. You offer no help in his mission. Yet, because of his love for you, I do not speak against your presence in his life.”

Fenris was brought up short. Did he trust this demon’s words? He shook it off. “You have been corrupted through immersion in Anders’ mind. His anger has made you Vengeance.”

“His words, not mine. He has much anger, has felt much abuse. But, I am not anything other than I have ever been. An ideal is not changed by those who hold to it. Those who hold it are changed by the ideal.”

“Then, you’re changing him. And, he doesn’t like it.”

“He has not changed. He has simply grown stronger in his convictions. Are you strong enough to stand by him, Elf, wherever those convictions lead?” 

Fenris didn’t reply. He owed the demon no answers. He knew his own strength.

Until he awoke back in his body. Killed in the Fade after accepting the demon Wryme’s offer. He lay on the floor next to Anders’ unconscious form, and felt his insides churn. What had Anders said about blood magic? You have to look a demon in the eye and accept its offer? Was he, Fenris, no better than a blood mage? He spasmed in horror. He rolled to his knees looking frantically about him. A hand lighted on his shoulder, and a bucket was placed under his head. Fenris’ gut lurched, and he vomited repeatedly. 

Varric’s voice came from behind him. “Yeah... I did the same thing. Don’t kick yourself, Broody. You’re only mortal.”

Fenris wiped his mouth. “He didn’t succumb.”

“Nope. Maybe we’ve got this whole ‘abomination’ thing wrong.” He handed a bottle of wine to Fenris, who took a swig, gratefully.

It wasn’t long after that Hawke and Anders awoke. Feynriel had shaped the Fade, and moved on. Fenris offered Anders a hand to stand up. He fully expected Anders to mock his weakness, and he would have accepted it, without argument.

Instead, Anders pulled him into his arms. “Are you alright?” His voice filled with nothing but concern.

A brief thought went to the fact that they were surrounded by Hawke, Varric and Marethari, and was quickly dismissed. He gripped the mage, burying his face in his shoulder. “No. I am not alright.” 

Anders rubbed his back, his breath tickling his ear. “Demons are dangerous for a reason, Fenris. Mages receive training to resist them. That you resisted them as long as you did was testament to your resolve.”

“I took its offer. I’m no better than a blood mage.”

“You are infinitely better than a blood mage. I would never kiss a blood mage.”

Fenris huffed, and let the mage rock him gently.

He heard Varric’s voice speaking in an undertone. “So.... this is all we needed to do to bring peace to our little family? Run Broody and Blondie through the Fade together?”

\-------------------------------

He didn’t get the chance to tell Anders about his talk with Justice. In truth, he had many chances. He simply did not know how to address the subject. And, then, before he could make a decision about it, he was faced with Hadriana.

Anders was with him. So were Hawke and Varric. It was a nightmare. Only one thing could have made it worse, but Danarius was conspicuously absent. 

Ripping that bitch’s heart from her chest was better than he had ever imagined it could be. And, he had imagined it many times.

She’d laid the knowledge and complication of his sister’s supposed whereabouts on him before he’d killed her. That was unsettling enough. Add to that the certainty that Danarius was still hunting him, and Fenris found himself uncharacteristically overwrought. He’d taken it out on Hawke, when the man had only tried to help. Then, he’d taken off from the caverns without a word to Anders.

He approached his home, now, calmer, but his thoughts were still in a tumult. He looked up to find an apostate sitting on his front steps. 

“I was worried.”

“I... I was just apologizing to Hawke. I owe you one, as well.” He sat next to the mage. “I should not have run from the caverns like that. At least not without speaking to you, first.”

“You were upset. I understand.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“You nearly ran from Kirkwall without speaking to me.”

“I didn’t.”

“No, Hawke talked you down. If he hadn’t....”

“If he hadn’t, I’d have come to you before I left, and you would have.”

“You would have come to me?”

“Of course, I would have! Why would you think I wouldn’t?

“Ran away from the Circle, ran away from the Wardens... It sounds like a habit.”

“And you ran away from Danarius. Maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

They both glared at each other for a beat. Then, both spoke at the same time, “I’m sorry;” “I apologize.”

Fenris rose. “Come inside, Anders.”

Inside, Anders pulled off his robes and sat at the table. Fenris poured them both their preferred drinks. Actually, he eschewed pouring, and just took long pulls from the wine bottle, pacing the floor.

“Rough day?” Anders ventured.

He glared at the mage. “You were there.”

“I was. Want to talk about it?”

“You heard what I told Hawke about Hadriana?”

“I did. Sounds like a first-rate bitch.”

“She was. She was jealous, I think.”

Anders looked surprised. “Of a slave?”

Fenris nodded, taking another pull on the bottle. “I was a favored slave. Danarius guarded me jealously. He didn’t allow others to use me, not even his apprentice.”

“How did she get the chance to do the things she did?”

“He was an important man. He couldn’t always take me with him, and didn’t really care much what happened to me beyond certain limitations. She had plenty of opportunity to take out her petty jealousy on a bound, helpless slave.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine you helpless.”

“Against their power, and in my mindset, I was simply a well-trained pet, with no bite.”

“Maker, Fenris.”

He was quickly emptying the bottle. “She was cruel. She did what she could to make me miserable. She delighted in her little games and tortures. But, she was not allowed to command me to kill, or to wield the power the lyrium lines supplied.” He chucked the empty bottle at the wall, smashing it. He opened a new bottle, drained a good portion of it. “That was Danarius’ privilege.”

Anders sat, quiet, watching and listening.

“It was his sole privilege, too, to command me to please him. Fasta vass... I performed for him like a whore. Sucked his cock, licked his ass, bent over for him to tear into me.” He pulled a long draw on the bottle, washing the memory from his mouth. “He was often indulgent, afterward. He would allow me to lay my head in his lap, would pet me like a dog, call me his ‘little wolf’. I would lie there, my ass on fire or my neck throbbing from the unlikely positions he’d bent it in.... 

“And, I craved his affection, Anders. For just those few moments, I was touched gently, heard kind words. Venhedis! Pathetic.”

He drained that bottle, too. “I didn’t know any different. Had no way to know.” The bottle flew at the wall, smashing.

“I didn’t know there could be pleasure, and gentleness, and humor, and trust.” He yanked his gauntlets from his hands, and swiped at his eyes. Moisture was inexplicably building there. “All I knew was... the kind of hate I used to show you.” 

Anders stood, approached him slowly, stopped a pace away. Fenris swiped at his eyes again. Anders reached for the elf, carefully stepped into his space, and held him loosely about the waist. Fenris leaned on him, and buried his face in the crook of the mage’s neck. 

“Fenris. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

The elf shrugged, shook his head. 

“And, there was nothing pathetic about you. You were trying to survive in a terrible situation.”

He was wrung-out, and didn’t trust his self-control to keep himself from an emotional display. He pulled out of the mage’s embrace. He began to divest himself of armor. 

“Stay?” He asked.

“Of course.”

Wrapping himself around the mage as he slid into bed, he felt an odd pressure in his chest. As though something were trying to get out. He also felt the mage’s hands soothing him, the warmth of his body and sound of his breath. He appreciated even more now, the gifts Anders had given him.

“You know I spoke to Justice while in the Fade.”

“Mm-hm. I know.”

“Do you know what was said?”

“No. I just have a sense that something of import passed between you. I figured you’d bring it up when you were ready.”

“He says you haven’t changed him. That he is not Vengeance.”

Anders was quiet.

“And, that he has not changed you.”

Anders was still quiet.

“And, that he does not approve of me, despite my allure.”

Anders snorted. “I had gotten that impression, some time ago.”

“He says he doesn’t speak against us, because of your love for me.”

Anders took a shuddering breath.

“He asked if I was strong enough to stand by you, wherever your convictions lead in the future.”

“And... are you?”

“I am. I’m also strong enough to love you, despite the past that haunts me. And, the one that haunts you.”

Anders’ arms clutched him tighter. He felt the mage’s breath in his ear as he exhaled. “Oh... Maker.” Anders pressed a hard kiss to his temple. His voice was thick when he next spoke.

“Then, there is nothing we cannot meet together, Fenris; from the past or in the future.”


End file.
